


Shattered

by UnravelMySoul



Category: Spider-Man (homecoming), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Blood and Gore, Bottom Peter, Character Death, Cock & Ball Torture, Collar, Explicit Sexual Content, Fucking, Genital Torture, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapped, Kidnapping Peter, Light BDSM, M/M, Original Character(s), Other, Poor Peter, Poor Peter Parker, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Content, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Torture, Underage Rape/Non-con, Violence, Whipping, i'm terrible and i'm sorry, kidnap, spider-man homecoming - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-04 17:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10995258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnravelMySoul/pseuds/UnravelMySoul
Summary: Peter goes on his nightly patrol and things go south. He ends up being kidnapped, and the Avengers have no idea where to look. Peter's tormentor has one goal: to get Peter to submit. He undergoes months of torture and begins to think the Avengers aren't going to find him.





	1. August 24th, 2017

**Author's Note:**

> My first work!! I will try to UPDATE BI-WEEKLY (no specific days, just a definite twice a week). This story is almost finished. I'd sayyyy three chapters away (from the point i'm at now, not three after this chapter) before it's resolved properly. But this story WILL be finished, I will not abandon it.  
> This story is demented and tragic, but i promise it gets better...maybe.

August 24th, 2017

     The frigid night air would usually bite if it hadn’t been for his new suit upgrade, providing Peter with adequate insulation. He takes a break on a ledge overlooking the glowing city of his beloved Queens. Yeah, the suit really is better than he could have ever imagined. He’s gone from an average high school freshman, target practice for all his favorite bullies, to a _hero_ among the Avengers themselves. If only the walls around his heart offered a semblance of warmth. The wall came right up when Aunt May was hit by a wrong-way driver on the freeway. He was at school when the T.V. in the cafeteria showed the devastating wreck from an aerial view. He jumped out of his chair, knocking it down once he recognized the car, feeling his heart squeeze and lungs deflate. Everyone stared at him but he didn’t care, he had a life to save.

      He used all the power he had, all the superhuman strength he possessed to catapult himself through the city. Vision tunneling, focused on the one life he can’t lose. By the time he reached the smoking vehicles at the side of the freeway, Aunt May was being cut out using the Jaws of Life. He felt his knees turn to jelly, his stomach leap into his throat, unable to move an inch closer. He didn’t feel like the sarcastic, quick witted, friendly neighborhood human-arachnid. Hell no. He felt like the six-year-old Peter who watched his parents leave without an explanation. He felt like the time his Aunt made him go to the doctors to get his shots but couldn’t get out of the car due to paralyzing fear, so she had to reschedule. He felt like he was watching his Uncle die all over again. His breath caught when he saw his aunt’s lifeless arm flop to the side of the car. Pieces of glass littered her once glowing skin, however now, it was covered in small streams of blood.

      The Avengers were kind enough, and more than willing, to take in the orphaned child. Despite their obvious dislike of the fifteen-year-old’s night patrols, he’s made a vow to protect the innocent. He can’t risk losing another person just because the Avengers gave him a curfew. It’s his fault he couldn’t be there to save his Aunt, he won’t make that same mistake.

      He swings from building to building, listening to the cars honking and people talking on their phones as they scurry home for the night. A distant calling has him changing direction mid swing and Peter goes to what seems to be a distress-sounding woman. Yet, she sounds so…familiar…just like…no, she’s gone, Peter. Stop being ridiculous, he thought. However, he swings faster to reach the woman.

      He lands quietly on the sidewalk just outside an empty parking garage. He hears the woman again, closer this time, and doesn’t hesitate before entering the abandoned garage. It’s difficult to distinguish the origin with the echoes bouncing off the walls, but it sounds like she could be on the second level. He jumps out one of the side openings and shoots a web onto the upper floor opening. He lands on the ledge and immediately sees a woman struggling in a man’s hold.

      “Not sure if you grasp the concept of what the word “no” means, but here’s a little hint: it means no!” Peter’s voice was muffled by his mask, but still clear enough to understand.

      The man turns around, not seeming surprised by Spider-Man’s presence. The young hero notices a gun to the woman’s head and puts his hands out.

      “Woah, hey there. Don’t need to do anything you’ll regret. Just let her go,” Peter said, stepping off the ledge.

      “Now, here’s a delectable treat. _Spider-Man._ All clad in your tight spandex and ready to save the day. Here’s a thought: how about you and I have ourselves a little game, hmm?” His voice reverberates around them, a calm kind of insanity radiates off him in waves. “Doesn’t she look familiar, Ssspidey?”

      Fisting her brown hair in a harsh grip, he thrusts the woman’s head up. She yelps, tears already streaming down her face. She pleads meekly but is instantly shushed by the assailant. He’s right. She looks just like Aunt May, even with all the freckles covering her nose and cheeks. Spider-Man – no, Peter feels his legs stumble forward, his heart lurching. But, he must stay strong; she isn’t Aunt May.

      “What do you want?” He said, hoping his voice was stronger than how he felt.

      “To _play_ , I thought I said that already?” The man whined, stomping his foot like a petulant child. 

      “Just tell me what you want and let her go,” Spider-Man said. The assailant gave a smirk making his spider-sense go through the roof. But he can’t figure out why.

      “Fine,” He turns to the woman in his grasp and presses his lips to her ear, “Be a doll, dear, and take out that toy we were discussing earlier, won’t you?”

      She goes into the man’s inner-coat pocket and takes out something that glints in the moon’s light. She holds it with shaking hands until he tells her to toss it on the ground.

      The man smiles at Spider-Man, “Put this on and she’s free to go. Just like you want. No tricks, just her freedom.”

      Spider-Man’s eyes widen, as do the lenses on his mask. Upon further inspection, there’s only one thing the metal ring could be: a collar – not that it made any sense in this situation.

      Spider-Man looks back up to the man with one eyebrow raised, “The fact that you said, “no tricks”, makes me believe you’re gonna trick me. Just let her go and I’ll take you down gently.”

      Spider-Man is really dealing with a crazy person this time. And to think, he was having a quiet patrol night. He looks around the garage, trying to figure out a way to get the upper hand. Before he can even make a move, the man shoots her in the leg. Her screams pierce his ears, a cold weight dropping in his stomach.

      “Do you have a hearing problem or do you just enjoy listening to me repeat myself?” He doesn’t let Spider-Man answer. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson that this isn’t a joke. Put. It. On. And she’s free without any _further_ harm. And looks like you better hurry, little boy, she’s quite the bleeder.”

      He’s made a vow. Yet, he’s let another innocent person suffer from his stupid mistakes. Just put on the stupid collar! Before he knows it, he’s bending over to grab the light-weight metal. He studies it, not seeing how he’d get it on his neck. He gives it an experimental tug and the ring comes apart in two halves. Spider-Man looks up and the man gives him a single nod. With an exhale, he quickly places the two metal pieces around his neck, eyes squeezed shut, expecting something to happen. Two simultaneous clicks resonate through the tense silence. Spider-Man opens one eye and cautiously opens the other, he tugs on the collar and realizes that it won’t budge – but of course, that was to be expected. When he looks up, the woman is laying on the floor, holding her leg, and the man is holding up remote with a smug smile.

      Seeing this as his chance, he leaps, his hand seconds away from shooting his web. The man’s smile widens and he pushes a button. All Spider-Man feels is pain igniting inside him.

      “Don’t worry, Spidey, I’ll make sure she gets all the help she needs…” The man’s voice is distant as pure numbing darkness envelopes him.


	2. New Obsession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kidnapper's identity is revealed to the Avengers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know about anything I should fix, or any sentences that sound awkward.We're all writers here (and readers are uber helpful, too!). I'm definitely not perfect ;)

          “Where’s Peter?” Bruce said, sitting at the table with a cup of black coffee in his hands. Tony and he were working on a late-night project, as always. “He’s usually in by now. You think he got into some trouble?”

          It’s a quarter past midnight, and on a school night at that. He usually comes swinging past the giant windows, waving at the two science geniuses who are the only ones still in the common room. Bruce’s frown deepens, wrinkles forming on his forehead.

          Without looking up from his tablet from his place on the sofa, Tony answers Bruce’s inquiry, “Who knows. I’m sure he can figure it out, he’s a smart kid.”

          The T.V. flickers to life, coming in static-y and emitting a fuzzy noise with a voice breaking in and out every so often. Bruce forgets his coffee at the table and goes to stand next to Tony, who’s also left his previous engagement on hold. After a few moments, the screen clears and a man with wild, green eyes, dressed in a white lab coat greets the two.

          “Hello, my fellow scientists. What a night it has been, am I right? I’m sorry for the delay, it’s been a real pain in the ass trying to hack into your computer system. What software are you using, by the way?”

          “Yeah, um, who the hell are you and why are you on _my_ T.V.?” Tony asked, crossing his arms.

          “My name is Dr. Neos, and I’ve got something very fun to show you.” He steps out of the camera’s view and a small boy, wearing nothing but blue boxers and a collar, is secured to a metal table.

          “Jarvis, notify the team. It’s an emergency,” Tony said, stepping closer to the T.V.

          “Already did, Sir,” Jarvis, the A.I., responded.

          Bruce turned away, trying to calm his emotions.

          “No need to get so worked up, you two,” The man walks next to the table, this time holding a bucket, “The parties just getting started.”

          He splashes the water onto Peter’s face and the poor kid splutters awake. He frantically looks around, pulling on the metal clasped around his limbs and over his waist. Seeing the two right next to each other makes Peter look like the adolescent he is.

          “Sorry, my dear child, not even you are strong enough to combat vibranium.”

          At this, the rest of the Avengers made it into the room and watched on in horror, trying to contain their rage. Tony has Jarvis figure out their location, but he keeps coming up with nothing; as if they aren’t even on the planet at all.

          “At first,” Dr. Neos sets the bucket down and smiles fondly at Peter, “I had this obsession with how you got your powers. I watched you, swing through the city like some god, truly unstoppable,” He runs a hand over his wrists where the web shooters should be. “I needed to be you, to have what you have. Then I spotted a weakness, a flaw: your heart. You care so much for these pathetic citizens, its rather unhealthy.”

          Peter’s chest was visibly rising and falling at a quicker pace, startled by how long the man has been there, undetected. The Avengers seem just as puzzled.

          Dr. Neos continued, feeling the power he’s been craving, “You tried to save her, that woman in the nasty car wreck. You were _so_ adamant about it, even when you knew she was already dead. And that’s why you’re here today. Because the _one thing_ you swore to defend, is also your biggest downfall. But, that’s beside the point. As of late, I’ve discovered a new obsession...”

          He peers closer to the high schooler’s face, who is still dripping water from his rude awakening. The Avengers are silent, tense, and scared for the orphan.

          He opens his mouth, his hot breath hitting Peter’s face as he says, “Your submission.”

          Dr. Neos clicks a button and the screen goes black. As if they were never there.


	3. And So...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you understand, child?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still setting up the story. After this, mud hits the fan quick!

         Submission? Peter doesn’t understand. And who was he speaking to? He was staring it him the whole time but it sounded like he was talking to someone else. He tries to free himself, but the man, “Dr. Neos”, is right. It’s as if the harder he tries, the stronger the metal becomes. He looks around, whipping small droplets of water off his hair and into air. It’s much like an operating room; bright lights on the ceiling plus the giant light angling down at him. A cool draft makes him shiver and he looks down at himself. The prospect of him being half naked finally daunts on him and his face grows warm with humiliation. Not only has this insane freak kidnapped him, but he’s stripped him of his gear! Peter thought. Without his stuff, all he has is sticky fingers and superhuman strength – which, by the way, does absolutely nothing to combat these metal braces.

          Dr. Neos briefly sighs and looks to Peter, “You probably have so many questions, little one, but that can wait.”

          Peter is startled from his mind, almost forgetting that the man is still in the same room as him. The smug look makes Peter angrier than the fact that he’s let himself get kidnapped.

          “What the hell do you want with me? Let me-” White hot fire runs through his veins, burning him alive. His muscles are cramping from the tension and his mouth opens in a soundless cry. He’s never experienced pain at this level of intensity. Sure, he felt like shit after he was bitten while his entire body was being mutated, but this was something entirely new. It felt like his skin was being peeled off in droves of fire. He squeezes his eyes so tightly he’s sure they’re going to burst.

          “I said, all of your questions can wait, child,” Dr. Neos said calmly, finger pressed against a button to the remote controlling his collar.

          Peter turns his head as a sob finally escapes his mouth, tears spilling out the corner of his eyes. The pain just keeps building, boiling him alive. Tearing and eating his muscles. Stabbing his organs. Small volts of lightning pierce his neck one after the other where the collar rests. It’s the worst right there, the pain never ceasing to torture his delicate skin.

          “Do you understand?” Dr. Neos asked as if reprimanding a child for lying. When Peter doesn’t respond, he hits another button, amplifying the voltage. “Do you understand, child?”

          “YES!” Peter screams and his body falls motionless. The pain gone in an instant, leaving him panting with a layer of sweat over his entire body. Shit, what the hell was that? Peter thought. Through forceful breathing, his eyes widen in realization: he’s just given this assailant control over him and he can’t do anything about it…at least not strapped down to this table.

          Dr. Neos pats Peter’s head soothingly, “Good boy. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

          With that, Dr. Neos leaves Peter in the cold alone.


	4. ...It...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers plan.  
> “I am truly sorry, Sir[...]"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so freaking short! lol but the next chapter is...

          “Well, what the fuck was _that_?” Clint asked what is on all their minds. Natasha stands beside him, looking just as stunned as the rest of the group. She quickly replaces it with a look of indifference. No matter how long they glare holes in the blank screen, nothing occurs.

          Tony has lost all his patience and shouts at the ceiling, “Jarvis! Tell me you’ve found _something_ ,” There is no way that his own invention can’t locate where their little superhero is being contained, Tony thought. He crosses his arms and shifts restlessly, awaiting answer; as is the rest of the group.

          “I am truly sorry, Sir, but there is nothing I can do. I have scanned all possible locations, and even _impossible_ locations…young Peter is nowhere in my database.” If it were possible for an A.I. to sound distraught, that’s exactly how Jarvis sounded. It seemed as if the entire room just sunk. There’s no possible way that they can’t be found. _Anyone_ can be found! With some time and effort, of course, but this is different. This is _Peter Parker,_ the same Peter Parker that Tony secretly installed a GPS tracker to his suit in case he ever wants to know where the kid is patrolling. Tony runs a hand over his face and sighs.

          “Everyone just needs to calm down,” Steve takes the lead and tries to gather the distraught team. “We’ll find him, we just need to put our heads together and come up with a plan. If Jarvis can’t locate Peter and this “Dr. Neos” guy, then we have to do this the old fashion way.”

          Tony gives a quick snort, albeit with a twinge of hysteria, “How old are we talking, Capsicle? Not sure if they put missing children on milk cartons anymore.”

          “I meant by searching ourselves,” Steve corrects. “They couldn’t have gone far. Peter left only three hours ago, they have to be in the city, or at least close.”

          There’s a tense silence, no one voicing that they like the plan. However, if they don’t act now, who knows what could happen. Thor steps forward and places a hand on Mjolnir and grips it tightly.

          “The Captain is right,” Thor said, his voice booming, “I have learned that humans do not have efficient travel. We shall find our friend spider and rescue him before late.”

 

          Weeks pass by, and not a single trace of Peter is found.


	5. ...Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intentions come to light.  
> "[...] Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea that this story would have the response that it's gotten. I'm so very thankful and couldn't be hapier.  
> Let me know if I've made any errors, loves. It'll really help a ton!
> 
> xoxo

September 9th, 2017

          They’re all exhausted. Sleep seems impossible knowing that Peter is in the hands of some senseless doctor. Not a single trace of the poor kid can be found. Like he never even stepped foot on earth.

          Bruce walks into the common room and sees Tony with the entire coffee pot in his hands at the counter, staring off at nothing. Every so often, he will bring the pot up, open his mouth, but decide not to – it’s as if he’s lost the appetite to even drink something. Steve is standing at the window with his hands in his pockets, no doubt sporting a brooding brow and disappointed eyes. Natasha and Clint are quietly arguing as they discuss new search tactics at the table. Clint throws his hands in the air and places them on his hips, looking at Natasha as if she’s lost her mind. She sends him a look Bruce can’t quite see before she and Clint are back to their inaudible bickering. Even Thor, who’s slouched over on the couch, has a kicked-puppy-dog look. He’s running his hands over Mjolnir, like he’s plotting ways to destroy the kidnapper. Bruce is sure he’s in no better state. He hadn’t slept at all, too scared he’d have a nightmare and wake up…not himself.

          Bruce runs a hand through his curly hair and walks over to stand next to Steve. He gazes over the expanse that is their city and inwardly laments. How could this have happened? And to their newest and youngest member, Bruce thought.

          Without looking at Steve, he says, “This isn’t looking good…is it?” His voice is tight and the exhaustion is evident in his speach.

          The question is so innocent, so full of trust that Steve wants to come up with an answer to soothe the gentle physicist.

          Steve places a hand on Bruce’s shoulder and he squeezes it slightly, “We’ll find him…we have to.”

          The moment Bruce opens his mouth to reply, the T.V. comes to life. Thor jumps off the couch while the rest of the team gather, dreading what’s to come at the sight of Peter. He’s lost weight and he’s visibly shaking on the bed he’s shackled to. His eyes drift up until me see’s the camera; this time, he knows who’s watching on the other side. He has dark circles under his eyes, his ribs starting to become more visible than they already were on the naturally skinny teen. His muscle mass has obviously gone down some, as well. Bruce swallows thickly past the lump in his throat and breathes deeply.

          “Guys, I’m okay, I-I’m okay! We’re in under-” Peter’s unbearable shrieks fill the room. The Avengers feel a chill run up their spines, faces going pale. They are helpless as they watch him twist and turn and pull on the shackles with all his strength. To Peter, it feels like the fire has been burning him for minutes when it’s only been ten seconds before the pain stops.

          “I told you, didn’t I? That was a no-no, don’t do it again, little one,” Dr. Neos comes into view and sits on the edge of the bed, petting Peter’s hair almost lovingly. “I hate having to do that to you.”

          “I-I’m s-sorry…I’m s-s-o – never a-again,” Peter said between gasps.

          “I know, sweet child. Let’s get to business, okay?” Dr. Neos turns his attention to the camera and a smile forms on his thin lips, “Avengers, you seem to have gotten nowhere and I’m winning without having to lift a finger. I know it’s been a little while, so here’s a little update: Peter’s been such a handful these last couple weeks, I mean really, who let this boy become this way? I’m guessing it has a lot to do with a certain billionaire’s influence, no doubt. He was always telling me to do this, telling me to do that. It was so annoying. Specifically, when he’d always resist his punishments or start swearing like a sailor – which, by the way, is no way a young gentleman should behave.”

          Tony balls his hands into fists and clenches his teeth. There’s no point in yelling at the screen, they wouldn’t be able to hear him anyways. Steve puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder, hoping to calm him down.

          “I’ve made sure to correct that behavior immediately. Lots and lots of beatings, isn’t that right? He responds so very nicely to positive punishment, and with every new session he becomes more and more compliant. Without his Spider-Man suit, he’s quite the docile introvert. It’s rather cute, dare I say. He was so unyielding, but soon enough I had him begging to go easy on him. He’s learned much in such a short time. That being said, today marks a very special day for Spidey. I guess You can call it a graduation of sorts. From moving from one session to another,” Dr. Neos continued.

          He grabs the tripod and repositions it next to the bed. As he walks closer to Peter, they see that he’s shackled to both the headboard as well as his feet to the opposite end, and still breathing heavily. His eyebrows scrunched together in worry and he bites his lower lip. His once kempt, brown hair is now sticking up and knotted. The team can no longer see what the man is doing because the new angle only shows Peter from the waist up, but they have a feeling it’s going to be devastating.

          “How old are you, Peter,” Dr. Neos asked, the first time he’s addressed him by his first name. And in a way, Peter feels comfort in that.

          “Fifteen,” Peter’s voice still has some strength to it despite his appearance, which makes the Avengers look at him with pride.

          Dr. Neos makes a noise of elation, “Still young, good, good...Tell me, child, have you ever touched yourself?”

          At this question, the Avengers go ghost white, if possible. Clint starts cursing up a storm, thinking about how to jump through the screen and murder the man behind the camera. Steve sucks in a breath, freezing, eyes not leaving Peter’s. Bruce’s skin is tinged with green, his breathing picking up. Natasha rubs her hand up and down his back trying to calm him down while also fighting her own panic hidden behind her stoic countenance. Only her brows furrow ever so slightly. Thor has his hammer in his hands, looking like he’ll crush the T.V. at any second.

          “I asked you a question, child. Or do I have to use the remot-”

           “NO! No…p-please,” Peter winced at the thought, his body quaking with phantom pain. The Avengers notice the pinkly flesh around Peter’s neck and begin to wonder how many times he’s been subjected to the electrocutions. It even looks charred in some places.

          “Then answer the question,” Dr. Neos is always so calm, seemingly patient but they all know he’s a ticking time-bomb.

          Peter sucks in a breath and has a hard time swallowing, “…s-some…”

          “Speak up, I couldn’t quite catch that,” Dr. Neos said while placing a hand on Peter’s knee, slowly moving it up and down his leg in a caressing manner.

          The camera angle doesn’t allow the Avengers to see any of Dr. Neos’ actions. It only shows the way Peter’s face blushes. Only shows the way his hands are shaking in the shackles, chaffing his wrists raw.

          “S-s-sometimes…but-but I-I don’t really have t-time…too busy,” Peter looks away, not understanding why he felt the need to explain himself. Hell, he doesn’t even understand why he’s being asked such a private question! His face burns with embarrassment. Great, now earth’s mightiest heroes know he masturbates from time to time, Peter painfully thought.

          Dr. Neos chuckles, “I see. Well, you aren’t busy right now. Let’s have some fun, shall we?”


	6. Beggars Are Beggars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Peter.  
> “Open your eyes and look at me[...]”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you MythologyStar for the tip! :)  
> Side note: I felt sick to my stomach writing this. I just want the dang Avengers to rescue him already. Ahaha why did I write this? (;﹏;)

       “No, no, please! Please, stop!” Peter begged, but Dr. Neos easily lowers his boxers with one hand and produces a pair of scissors Peter hadn’t noticed before. Dr. Neos cuts the boy’s underwear off and tosses them, purposefully, across the camera’s view.

          Steve loses control of his legs and falls to the couch, eyes not daring to leave Peter’s terrified, baby brown ones. They can’t see what the monster’s doing, but they don’t need to. He’s going to do the worst to their poor child, something that no person should have to go through. Tony feels moisture burn his eyes, threatening to overcome him. This act is revolting, sickening, and filthy and to think that this man takes pleasure in Peter’s small whimpers.

          “Please, I don’t w-want this!” Peter’s voice broke, as does the rest of him when the man wraps his hand around his flaccid length. Peter shuts his eyes, wishing the Avengers, his family, won’t watch his failure. He fights hard not to gasp when the hand starts tugging and pulling at his foreskin. Keeping his mouth defiantly shut, he starts to huff panicked breaths out his nostrils. The friction, much to his horror and disgust, makes him start to harden. He whimpers high in his throat, trying to think of anything that will make it all go away. Maybe he can will himself to not get any harder.

          His 15-year-old body can’t control itself as well as he wishes, it’s betraying him. He tries to think of anything, anything at all! But his mind keeps drifting to the man’s calloused hand gripping him in such a shamefully delicious way. He swears he doesn’t want this! He keeps telling himself over and over in his head that he isn’t enjoying this. His heart is only beating faster because he’s scared. His body is getting warm because he’s embarrassed. He promises he doesn’t want this! Who could want this?

          “Aww, look at your adorable little face,” Dr. Neos coos, “I bet you’re thinking of someone you really, really like judging by how hard you are. I sure do hope it’s me. Shit, boy, how on earth did you hide such a marvel inside that leotard of yours?”

          Peter lets out a sob that morbidly sounds like a pitiful moan. He bites hit tongue hard enough to draw blood, refusing to let any other embarrassing noises leave him. Tears threaten to fall through his screwed shut lids and his breath picks up. Clint is counting in his head, looking at anything inside the torture chamber that could give away their location; anything just to not see the guilt and mortification on Peter’s face.

          “Are you thinking of the Avengers?” Dr. Neos asked.

          Everyone’s heads snap forward, shock, disgust and anger on full display. How could he insinuate such a terrible circumstance? Steve thought. He’s just a kid, he doesn’t need to think about or experience any of this. What hurts Steve the most is knowing that this is happening right now, right in front of his eyes, and he can’t do anything to stop it.

          “Do you guys ever have orgies after a long day of hard work? You know what that is, don’t you? Of course, you do. Look at who I’m talking to, the queen of whores. You’re obviously a bottom, there’s no way they’d let you exert yourself too hard. They want to coddle you, adore you, run their hands over you. You’re only fifteen, so you must feel the aching need to come as fast as possible, am I right? Driving you to want more and more. I bet Captain America is nice and gentle, isn’t he? Makes sure that you know you can stop at any time, but you tell him you’re ready. He touches you soft and passionately, so slow that it drives you so close to the edge but not over. You beg him to go faster as he spreads your legs wider. He’s old fashioned, so I’m guessing he enjoys missionary? Loves to look into your eyes as he takes you to a new level of bliss. Slow and steady,” Dr. Neos slowly his strokes and focuses on the tip of Peter’s growing arousal. Pulses of pleasure run up the inside of Peter’s thighs. He uses two fingers to slowly tease him senselessly, “so slow, no rush. Constantly on the edge.”

          Steve looks like he’s going to be sick. He even looks greener than Bruce.

          “But, Tony? Oh, you’re his little pet, I know that for sure. Doing everything to please your dear old “Mr. Stark”. You let him take you however he likes. Over his workbench, like the little cum-slut you know you can be,” He goes back to his steady pace and Peter moans, feeling shame pool in his stomach. He finally starts crying and pulls hard on his shackles making them tear and scrape his delicate skin. He chest turns a shade of pink that gradually spreads to his neck and ears. Sweat starts to bead on his forehead and temples, behind his knees and chest.

          Dr. Neos sees the internal fight Peter is struggling to overcome, “I can’t even imagine how that beefy Norse God gives it to you, ha-ha. Probably has you drooling like an animal. Pounding into you like a ruthless beast. No, I bet me makes you ride him as he thrusts like a piston into your small hole. You can’t control yourself as you scream and beg for more. Tell me, who’s your favorite?”

          “P-please,” Peter can barely get any words out in between his moans and sobs. “I-I don’t-”

          Fear and panic consumes Peter. He needs to escape this torture. The shackles cause his wrists to bleed, but the pain is near nonexistent as the feeling of pleasure grows to new heights. No one has ever touched him such an intimate way. The words, the made-up relations between him and his team, the – just _everything_ is becoming too much. His mouth opens in a loud sob, the walls around his cold heart shattering. He can’t protect himself. He isn’t strong enough to keep himself together. He needs the Avengers. He wants them to save him. To hold him. Hide him. He wants his family. His sobs grow stronger, the agony of what’s happening latching onto his heart and freezing him alive.

          “You don’t want to choose? Are they all _that_ good? I guess now I’ll have to show you what a good fuck really feels like.”

          Peter chokes on another moan, feeling disgusted with himself. He’s trying so hard to hold them back, but they inevitable escape along with his cries. The pleasure is so undeniably present. Whenever he closes his eyes, it’s the only thing he can feel, the only thing he can think of. And his other option isn’t any better, having them open brings the situation to the forefront of his sanity. He keens like a wounded dog and tugs harder on the shackles. The precum is steadily running down his length in spurts and onto Dr. Neos’ persistent hand. It’s been months since his last touched himself, his body wants to revel in the feeling. He’s losing control of his actions, he can’t help it as he grinds his hips into the bed and softly thrusts into the tight hand. Peter is losing, he’s failing. He’s so sensitive, every twist of Dr. Neos’ wrist at the tip of his hard cock drives him mad, sends his mind in a fog. Dr. Neos wants to hear Peter moan, wants him to watch himself become undone by the doctor’s hand.

          “Open your eyes and look at me,” Dr. Neos demands. When Peter doesn’t open them, Dr. Neos squeezes his hand painfully tighter, “Open your _fucking_ eyes and look. At. ME!”

          Dr. Neos has never yelled at him before so Peter opens them reluctantly, tears cascading down the sides of his face. His body is shaking from the disgraceful pleasure, and the sobs wracking his body. He’s never lasted this long before, but trying to stave it off is becoming his backfire. It only increases the burn, the intensity. Like he’s said, he probably masturbates once or twice a month if he’s lucky, apparently never having the time for himself. And when he does have a few minutes alone, it’s just that – a few minutes. And he doesn’t fight it. The quicker the rush the better and the faster he can get on with his day. Or at least that’s what he thought. Fighting an impending orgasm is like having this giant water balloon growing in his stomach. It just keeps growing until it has to burst.

          Peter looks at what’s being done to him, and it’s horrendous. He’s leaking like a waterfall, his hips thrusting in time with the doctor’s hand even though he’s trying so hard not to, and that sloppy slick noise is humiliating. Dr. Neos gives one last twist of his wrist at the tip of Peter’s leaking erection. It’s too much, Peter wants to fight it off, wants to not give in, to not be looking into the eyes of his torturer, but he can’t help it. He can’t help it when his back arches off the bed, the way his eyes roll back, the way he loses his breath, how his limbs tug harshly on the shackles. He lets out a loud mewling moan accompanied by hiccupping-sobs. He can’t help it when he thinks it’d be better off if the man just decided to kill him.

           “Beautiful,” Dr. Neos whispers.

           Please, someone take him far away.


	7. October 22nd, 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Moment He Shatters.  
> "Please! Please! Please…please…please…please[...]"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no going back after this! I mean, yeah this is all pretty messed up, but this is just...I hope Peter makes it out in one piece.

October 22nd, 2017

          Ever since the first time Dr. Neos…touched him, it’s been happening every day. He would drag Peter out of his “safe room” and shackle him to the bed. Just recently, he’s been given enough trust to not be shackled if he doesn’t fight back. Peter’s tested that threat numerous times and received long electrocution “sessions” in return. Even though he’s slowly losing the will and strength to fight back, today probably won’t be any different. Peter’s “safe room” is the only room where Dr. Neos won’t do anything to him, wont treat him like he’s less than an animal, won’t talk down to him. Here, Dr. Neos shows him affection, care, and concern. He’s allowed to walk freely, collared (unquestionably), and shower and change into a fresh pair of boxers now. He still isn’t allowed to look at himself, but he can tell that his short, wavy hair is now a lot longer if the curling at the ends is any indication. Though, he wishes there, at the very least, could be blankets in here…maybe if he asks nicely – no! What is he even thinking? Master would never give him something so luxurious. He doesn’t deserve those accommodations. Not when he still doesn’t deserve to live.

          Dr. Neos opens the door while Peter is in mid-thought, effectively startling him. The way his Master glares at him makes his legs tremor beneath him. It can’t be that time already, it can’t! Master hasn’t even given him his daily snacks, Peter’s mind scrambles for a possible reason his Master would be angry with him. Master always gives him enough food for small bursts of energy when they do “important” tasks and assignments.

          He’s shackled once again and lead out of the safe-haven. They go in the opposite direction of the bedroom, which makes breathing easier. Peter wants to ask where they’re going but doesn’t want to disobey the number one rule: Do not speak unless clearly allowed to do so. There are only three rules that Peter absolutely must follow and keeps close attention to them daily. The second rule is: Only good boys deserve good things, and the third rule is: Act not ask. Asking questions always means the fire in his veins. The fire, the spankings, being forced to pleasure Master with his mouth. He hates to disobey, but hates the punishments far more.

          However, if he were allowed to choose a punishment, he’d gladly take a spanking over putting his Master in his mouth. The first time, he couldn’t stop crying long enough to hold his breath while his Master plunged in his mouth with no remorse. He had locked his fingers in his hair and ruthlessly hurt him. His jaw hurt so bad after; he couldn’t open it without there being a slight crack or cramp. But the crazy thing that happened was…his Master gave him hugs and massages afterwards. As if he felt a little guilty. Those were Master’s best moments. Not the glazed overlook whenever he tortured him.

          They enter a completely vacant room, except for the two chains hanging from the ceiling. Dr. Neos removes Peter’s shackles and secures him to the ceiling ones. He stands there awkwardly with his arms raised above his head in an almost uncomfortable stretch, his toes only grazing the floor. Dr. Neos exists the room and turns off the lights, leaving Peter in the dark. At first, he believes his Master will come back, but nothing happens. He doesn’t know how long he’s been stretched like this for, but his shoulders begin to cramp. His muscles strain to keep him up, which only makes it burn and tighten more.

          Hour three:

          It feels like his arms are being torn off from their hinges. He’s crying and pulling at the shackles, trying to break free. With only the small amount of energy he has to start with he, he falls limp and the pain doubles.

          Hour eight:

          He can’t breathe. His chest wont expand to accommodate sufficient air flow. He can’t remember why he’s being punished so severely. His body refuses him the relief of passing out as more tendrils of liquid acid tears his muscles apart and sears his flesh around his wrists. His lungs ache from his wailing and screeching. He swore at one point he was begging his Master to let him down, that he’d do anything and everything. He would pleasure his Master better than he ever has. Silence. His Master didn’t visit him once through the entire night.

          It seems like he’s given up on the Avengers so long ago. He knows that’s wrong, but there’s no way they can find him down here. And he doesn’t blame them. Master used to own science center that was once used for testing rare species of arachnids called “Neos & Helix”. Until one day, they were no longer funded due to Neos’ illegal human experimentation – trying to replicate Spider-Man. Lab assistants and young interns would go missing without a trace and would end up dead at some abandoned facility. They tore the building down and Master went into hiding. Little did they know, there was an underground facility, still operational, that runs on its own grid, its own database, which blocks out all operational systems from locating him. Making sure that no one can see the illegal experiments Master conducts.

          If the Avengers _did_ figure out where he is and what’s being done to him, he wouldn’t be able to cope with that. How could he look them in the eyes after this? If he can’t even remember what his own face looks like, how could he go back to being the same old Peter Parker everyone knew? He’s disgusting now; defiled. Wretched. Putrid.  His world has gotten so twisted in such a short time. First the spider bite, his uncle, his aunt, and now this. It all happened because he’s Spider-Man. It’s because of him. He’s unrepairable. A tear slides down an old, dried up tear-track, soon more and more freely flow down his quivering cheeks. This time it isn’t from pain, it’s from realization. Instead of embracing his “powers,” he should’ve killed himself right then and there. Who would want a freak who can stick to walls and fling spider-webs to save them? The most common phobia around the world is arachnophobia. What the hell was he even thinking!? Shit, even he finds spiders terrifying! He’s better off dead. He’s better off incinerated so that not even the maggots and worms will be cursed from eating his flesh. Everyone would be better off if he never existed. 

          The door creaks open and the dim lights flicker back to life. At first, Peter thinks he’s finally seeing mirages, that is until his back is splitting. A whip slashes through his flawless back, tearing into him. Not enough to do massive harm his super healing can’t fix, but enough to make him bleed and scream. Peter’s mind scrambles, trying to find a reason why Master would hurt him like this. He was never subjected to whippings before. He never left him to suffer through the night. What did he do wrong!? What has he ever done to deserve this?

          Dr. Neos is relentless. Careless. He simply smirks at the sound of Peter’s anguish. He’s found a new toy that he’s certain will never get boring. Scream after scream rips through Peter’s throat. He swears his eyes are crying tears of blood. And just like that, Dr. Neos is out the door once more. Peter is sobbing hysterically, scared that Master would leave him yet again. The door opens again and Peter starts hyperventilating. Dr. Neos either doesn’t care or doesn’t feel like comforting his prized possession. He unshackles Peter, letting him drop in his arms and half caries half drags him to the bedroom. He’s thrown onto the bed face down. His arms are being shackled again. Peter doesn’t care that he’s being shackled to the bed, it’s so soft and his aching shoulders finally have relief. However, Master hasn’t had to shackle him to the bed in a while…and, this time he’s in a new position. He turns his head to the right and sees the infamous camera to a world he forgot what looked like.

          The Avengers watch as Peter is man-handled, his back torn, bleeding all over the once white mattress. He’s cut off from the waist up again, they aren’t sure if Dr. Neos wants Peter to retain some dignity or if he’s just particular with who gets to see the kid’s body. They can’t tell what’s happening on the other half, but if Peter’s increase in fight has anything to do with it, this isn’t going to be good.

          His boxers are thrown to the floor and Dr. Neos grabs his legs, pulling them apart. Peter’s eyes widen and he starts to struggle. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Please, this can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. Aunt May! Please, anyone!

          Please!

          He struggles in a futile attempt to get out of his Master’s grip, but the night and the whipping have left his body like putty.

          Without mercy, Dr. Neos shoves a vibrator in Peter’s rear. He shouts and wails, begging to have it taken out. There was no preparation, no warning, just suffering. It starts to vibrate, already turned on to the highest setting. He’s caught off guard and gasps when it touches something that sends shockwaves through him. To Peter’s mortification, the pain doesn’t seem so persistent. His breathing his stammering as he tries to control his growing arousal. He turns his head away from the camera, not wanting the team to see his disheveled face.

          The position starts to feel uncomfortable as his hardening length has no room to grow. He needs to readjust. The mattress rubs against his aching flesh and he moans softly. The friction was amazing and his body does it again before he can think about what he’s doing. Seemingly without control, he grinds against the soft, silky mattress. His whole body seems to be vibrating in a frenzy. He’s never felt something like this before, nothing has – _Shit!_

          He loses track of his thoughts as his vision goes white. Without even realizing he was close, an orgasm rips through him. He can’t help the loud screaming moans that breach his throat. It doesn’t stop, the vibrations just keep going and overstimulate that sensitive part inside of him. He feels on edge again, his arousal suffocating him. Soon enough, the vibrator is slicked with clear fluid from the constant abuse on his prostate, and is pulled out.

          Peter lets out a breath of relief and looks up to his Master; even if he was close to orgasming, he would rather be left alone then subjected to this. His eyes are begging that one assault would be all there is today, but his Master only roughly squeezes his ass and gives it a resonating slap. Everything is happening so fast, he can’t process what is truly about to wreck him. What’s going to be the detriment of his stability. Peter snivels and turns away to brace himself for whatever is about to happen. Dr. Neos pulls Peter’s legs further apart and ruthlessly plunges hilt deep into the child. Peter opens his mouth in a soundless scream, tears flowing down his face in silence. A hand grips his brown locks and tugs his head back. And this time, the penetrating object doesn’t stay still like the vibrator, this time it’s constantly moving, constantly tearing him apart. It’s so much bigger. So much hungrier as it eats away at his sore prostate. He’s being ripped open, he knows it. He can feel a warmer liquid run down the inside of his thighs.

          “Fuck! You are such a _slut_. Taking it in one go,” Dr. Neos sounds euphoric.

          “Take it out! No! N-no, Master, p-p-please! T-take it o-out! P-please. It hurts! H-help! Help me! Please! Please! Please…please…please…please,” Peter’s pleading turns into a mantra, his eyes un-focusing, his body giving into the exhaustion. Black dots creep into his vision. What did he do wrong?

          Master fills his body, burning his broken insides. Staining him a crimson color.


	8. Full Of Tragedies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's Left For Peter To Hold On to?  
> "[...] you’ve been such a good toy to me[...]"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so here's a WARNING! because this chapter is especially severe. You have the choice to skip and the story will carry on as normal. I posted two chapters today for that very purpose. The choice is yours.

          It happened all too rapidly. There was no warning to any of this. Shit, there’s never been a warning for anything bad that’s ever happened to Peter. It isn’t as if hell would knock! But just how – _how_ did he end up here? Every day he cries for relief, for the pain and the torment to stop ravaging his body. To stop ripping him apart only for his healing to make it look like it happened weeks, maybe months, ago when it’s only just happened yesterday. No matter how well his body is at healing, nothing will heal his mind.

          Dr. Neos wants to show him how much he’s completely and irrevocably owned. That’s why they’re here in front of a mirror, with Dr. Neos sitting on an armless chair and Peter sitting on his legs facing away from him. Peter is stark nude, while Dr. Neos sits comfortably dressed under him. Dr. Neos spreads Peter’s legs so that he’s open for whatever attack his tormenter has premeditated. Peter turns away and slightly leans away from his reflection, his back grazing Dr. Neos’ clothed chest. The doctor gives a small chuckle deep in his throat.

          “Child, look at yourself, you are _beautiful_. Don’t be shy.”

          Peter turns his head back, and begrudgingly opens his eyes and nearly cries at his own reflection. He straddles his kidnapper’s lap, his private parts on full display. How can he just sit on this man’s lap while he does whatever he pleases? Because Master would punish you, Peter’s inner voice said. He has lost. Dr. Neos strokes Peter’s flaccid penis until it’s standing erect accompanied by Peter’s whimpers and mewls. 

          “Good boy,” Dr. Neos praised, “Now, I know you’ve been such a good toy to me, nonetheless you back-talked yesterday, do you remember that?”

          After a brief silence, Dr. Neos stilled his hand so Peter could speak, “Y-yes…I do.”

          “I don’t let bad behavior go unpunished, you know that. That’s why we’re sitting here today, so you know that you cannot do _anything_ without there being proper consequence. You can’t keep going through life thinking it’s okay to do whatever the hell you want, child, because there are _consequences_.”

          Dr. Neos takes out a small metal rod, about the diameter and length of a wooden pencil. It’s smooth and rounded into a nubby point on one end and has a loop, big enough to fit the doctor’s finger through, on the other. He takes out a bottle of lube and covers the entire instrument. Peter shakes, not wanting a metal thing shoved up his rear. Then Dr. Neos starts to lube Peter’s penis, focusing on the tip. The implication is made obvious now and Peter lets a sob pass through his mouth.

          “No, please, Master! It won’t fit. I c-c-ant,” He’s trying to hold back his sobs which results in making him shake and shudder.

          “Yes, you can, child. You are going to just sit there and take it, and do you know why? Because you belong to me, now. There is _no one_ else, _just me_. And every time you disobey me, _this_ will happen. You don’t like it? Simple solution, don’t upset me and do as I say, when I say, and without any sly remarks.”

          He finished lubing the tip of Peter’s now rock-hard length and aligns the metal instrument with Peter’s urethra and slowly sticks the tip in. The stretch burns and the pinch leaves Peter breathless. This can’t be happening. He has to be having a nightmare.

          This has got to be the worst pain he has ever experienced. Worse than the whippings or being left to hang overnight. He wants to scream to take it out, to stop all of this, but he doesn’t want to make it worse. He can’t make it worse. However, he’s only at the tip of the bar, it’s barely even been inserted and he’s finding it hard to breathe. Dr. Neos rubs Peter’s back and massages the muscles there, trying to soothe the aching teen. He pushes the bar in further, earning a gasp and keening noise from the boy on his lap.

          Sweat is beading up all over his body from the burning pain. It feels like he’s about to split in half. His breath catches in his throat and he scrunches his eyes shut. Dr. Neos presses kisses along the boy’s sweaty neck and dampened hairline before pushing it in even further. A sound like being punched in the stomach leaves Peter’s mouth followed by a quiet wheeze. The instrument is now half way down his urethra and he swears he’s going to vomit. Peter is openly crying now, the burn becoming too much. His body can’t stop shaking and he would fall off if Dr. Neos wasn’t providing such a strong embrace.

          After what seems like hours, the metal instrument has reached the loop, meaning it is fully sheathed inside of Peter. The kid is breathing rapidly, one hand shaking uncontrollably and the other holds his thigh in a vice-like grip.

          “Look at how owned you are, Peter. Open your eyes and look at yourself. Accept what you’ve become,” Dr. Neos said.

          Peter looks at himself, really takes it all in. He’s panting as if he can’t get any air, his long, curly hair is clinging to his forehead in sweat, and his entire body is quaking in pain. His eyes, oh his big, brown eyes are shattered. Nothing about him is familiar. At the same time…he can’t remember what he used to look like to even make that comparison. All he knows is that he will never be the same. How could he? He’s a monster now. Unlovable, except by his Master. Untouchable, except by his Master. Untraceable, except by his Master. He’s owned. He’s abandoned. He’s dominated. He’s alone. He’s taken. He’s broken. He’s gone. Gone.

          Dr. Neos starts to move a hand under Peter’s balls and touches his quivering hole. Peter flinches harshly and lets out a hoarse sob from the intense flash of pain that jolted from the metal bar. Any wrong movement sends a shock of white pain through his pelvis. His Master traces his hole slowly and pulls away to lube his fingers before returning to the slow touches.

          “Don’t you **dare** look away from what I’m doing to you,” Dr. Neos breathes huskily into Peter’s reddened ear.

          And he doesn’t. Not once through the whole ordeal. He watches as Dr. Neos slowly works one, then two, then three, and finally four fingers into his warm insides. He watches as he gets thoroughly fingered. How the pink spreads from his chest to his face. The heat is pooling in his pelvis, but he starts to panic. How is he going to come if there’s a rod blocking it? Peter thought franticly. But Dr. Neos doesn’t ease up, seemingly forgetting the predicament. He constantly, slowly, rubs Peter’s swollen prostate over and over and over again. Making him near the edge. Building and building. The burn in his stomach increasing. He needs more, he needs to release. His body joins the rhythm of the fingers’ slow fucking and grinds into them, trying to quicken the pace. Dr. Neos grabs his hip with his free hand and holds him still, but otherwise doesn’t say anything. The slow thrusts are exquisitely painful. He feels on edge but there isn’t enough!

          Without warning, Master quickens his pace ten times as fast. Relentlessly thrusting and rubbing his walls with such ferocity. His muscles in his stomach are starting to burn, his thighs tighten, his balls hitch upward, and he screams high in his throat for all he’s worth.

          The rod blocks his release, leaving him a sobbing mess. He can’t bear to look at himself, but he doesn’t dare turn away. There’s a giant knot in his stomach that keeps twisting and pushing his pelvis outwards. Dr. Neos doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop! He keeps rubbing his agonizingly sensitize prostate with no mercy. Peter latches onto Dr. Neos’ arm that’s fucking him while his other hand creates moon-like craters in his shuddering thigh. It’s all too much. He can’t take it, but Master makes him take it. Makes him writhe from the overstimulation. Peter’s heaving, wheezing, but he doesn’t voice any kind of complaint. He sits on his rapist’s lap like a good toy and takes it all without fighting back.

          There’s no stopping his movements. It’s becoming painfully tight in his stomach again, the burn radiating through his thighs and up to his chest. He stares at himself in the mirror, his disheveled appearance making him sick. There’s drool beginning to dribble at the corner of his mouth. His eyes are half lidded in drunken ecstasy. His bony chest rising and falling like he’s just ran a marathon.

          An orgasm rips through him. White light overcomes his vision, and a piercing noise won’t leave his ears. He’s deaf. Everything goes silent, even his own breathing. It slowly comes back – first his labored breathing, his sobbing, his coughing, his pathetic mewls and moans, and the grotesque squelching of his Master’s fingers. The fingers are abruptly pulled out of him.

          Dr. Neos lifts the boy in his arms and lays him on the mattress while Peter comes down from his orgasmic high. His legs are being cascaded over Dr. Neos’ shoulders. Peter knows what this means, it’s all too familiar. He’s going to be taken with a rod in him, because he’s a bad boy. Without hesitating, Dr. Neos unzips himself and thrusts into Peter with a husky grunt. He sets a brutalizing pace and his delicate prostate is struck with every deep thrust. Despite himself, Peter moans with reckless abandon. The pleasure is too sweet. It’s too delicious to be quiet. His hands fly up to encircle around his Master’s neck and squeezes tight. He pulls himself closer, creating a new delightful friction. He moans and mewls like he’s never before.

          His impossibly hard erection rubs against his Master’s stomach, making a painfully sweet pleasure erupt within him. He comes harder than he’s ever known possible, but his screaming orgasm falls short into a sob. The rod preventing any comfortable release.

          Dr. Neos comes after several more thrusts and collapses on Peter. He must have given into Peter’s coughing sobs wracking his small body, because the rod is taken out in one swift motion and Dr. Neos starts pumping him fiercely. It only takes three seconds before he’s arching off the mattress, hands fisting the sheets, eyes rolling into the back of his head, with ‘Master’ on his lips. With his final release, the darkness greets him.


	9. December 14th, 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam Wilson to the rescue.  
> “Peter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, I think that's enough of Peter being tortured now, don't you think?

December 14th, 2017

It is an endless battlefield of torture, when you are fighting your own sanity.

           Sam Wilson is called out to New York for a new low-class assignment via S.H.I.E.L.D. Something about hearing strange noises of distress coming from an unknown location in the outskirts of Manhattan. At first the reports seemed completely ridiculous and merely civilian, but after the increasing reports the case just seemed bizarre and far too consistent. Everyone who’s complained or reported the disturbance all claimed they heard the same thing, at one point: possibly a young child’s scream (gender seemed to be inconsistent in this aspect).

           Sam’s confused when he reaches the location because there isn’t a compound like he thought there would be. Instead, there stands a fenced off lot with construction tape all around it – yeah, definitely not what he imagined. He jumps the fence and scouts around the area, looking for the source of the distress. After an hour of searching, he comes up with nothing. Looks like the director was right about this being a waste of time, Sam thought.

           Just as he gets ready to leave, he spots a faint trail of footprints. Now, these aren’t like the ones on the outskirts of the lot. These impressions look like someone’s constantly trying to cover them up…as if it’s a frequent path no one should know about. He goes to follow it when the fence rattles. He ducks behind some rubble from the destroyed building as a man walks in.

           He’s seen that face before. Why does he get the feeling that he’s missing something huge here? Sam thought. Wait…that-that can’t be. He slowly trails behind him, ready to apprehend the suspect when the man kneels over and pulls up a trapdoor. Sam mentally slaps himself. How did he not see that before? Some training, thanks Rogers. When the man disappears underground, Sam takes note of the location and takes off in his suit. He knows exactly who this dude is. Steve contacted him a little while back about the newest member being kidnapped. All S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were given a blurry screenshot of the man during one of the many livestreams.

           Sam lands right outside the common room, onto the balcony of the Avengers Tower. He sees Steve lightly jog to meet him halfway and offers a heavy smile.

           “What’s wrong? We weren’t supposed to see you for another month?” Steve said. Sam can see the lack of sleep, the way he looks as if he’s been beating himself up for the past few months. The guilt must be killing him. Most likely the rest of the team, too.

           “Peter.”

           In one word, Steve drops his forced smile. They devise a quick plan, mainly involving breaking in using a lot of force and partially controlled rage. Clint and Natasha are, unfortunately, away on a mission and won’t be back for a few more days. So, it’s up to Tony, Steve, and Thor to put an end to this. Bruce will stay behind to prepare the medical supplies; however, it was mostly because of a safety reason. Steve, Sam, and Thor ride in a large black SUV while Tony flies above, following them, as they make their way across the city.

           It’s the evening, the inhabitants mostly getting dinner or heading home. Much like the night Peter was taken from them. They hold their breath and enter the underground hell. Instantly, they hear crackling followed by choked off screams. Without hesitation, they run towards the pained noises.

           Steve reaches for the knob and softly tests if it’s unlocked. He turns his head and gives a slight nod to let them know to give him space and kicks the door off its hinges. They rush in, witnessing the whip split pale skin, watch as Peter’s head is thrown back by the force of his screams, then slumps back to wait for the next onslaught. At first, there’s delight and relief washing over everyone at the sight of Peter in arms reach. However, it’s the _sight_ of Peter that makes everyone’s stomachs churn; he’s too skinny and feeble, beaten, bruised, and overall malnourished. Too caught up in his torturous lust, Dr. Neos is thrown off guard when Thor grabs his wrist, snapping it and elbows him in the face, effectively rendering him unconscious. He would kill this man, but he thinks that killing is too kind a punishment. He deserves to suffer for years.

           Steve slowly walks in front of Peter’s dangling body. The team watches as he approaches him like a wounded animal. Peter looks up at him and breaks down.

           “It’s going to be okay now, kid, I promise.”


	10. Is Okay Really Okay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off to rescue their baby!  
> “T-thank you s-so mu-uch[...]”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, time for the recover and fluff overloads (੭ ˃̣̣̥ ω˂̣̣̥)੭  
> It's 1:30am in Long Beach, CA right now and I was just about to go to bed but decided to post this instead. Just a late night thing. Hope you enjoy.   
> If you've read up to this point, thank you for all the support and compliments! It means so much to me.

          Trying not to startle the teen, Steve speaks in a soft, low voice, “Tony, could give me a hand with these…chains and get him down? And Thor, while he does that I’m going to need you to hold Peter up so he doesn’t collapse.”

          There’s absolutely no way that he can stand in his current condition, Steve thought. It’s so difficult not to blame himself for Peter’s predicament. If only they kept a better eye on him and helped him while he was dealing with the aftermath of his Aunt’s death. It didn’t take an expert to realize that Peter stepped up his patrol hours to make amends for what he believed was his fault.

          Tony hesitantly approached the first chain and a small opening transformed on the forearm of his suit. A small device latched onto the first shackle around Peter’s wrist, Tony looks up at Steve and waits for the cue.

          “Sam, Thor, and Tony are right behind you, we’re going to help you, okay?” Steve speaks kindly, knowing full well that Peter needs to be reassured and coddled at this moment.

          “O-okay,” Peter sniffled, with silent tears still streaming down his face. He doesn’t know why, but he feels scared. What if they decide he’s no good anymore? What if they decide he’s a fun toy, too? What if they let Master keep him forever? He doesn’t want to be touched anymore. Please someone help him! Please!

          “Peter!” Peter snaps out of his thoughts, his eyes focusing on Steve’s. He hadn’t even realized he’d left. “You need to slow your breathing down; can you do that for me?” The stern tone of his voice grounds him, gives him something to latch onto.

          “…y-yes,” Peter said, albeit almost too quiet for anyone in the room to hear.

          “Good job, kiddo. Now, Tony is ready to get you unchained, okay? And then Thor is going to hold you up so you won’t fall. We don’t want you getting hurt, do we?”

          “N-no,” Peter said quietly, eyes looking down.

          Steve is starting to feel uneasy about Peter’s instant answers every time he asks a question, even the rhetorical ones. He’s shaking like a leaf and he won’t stop crying. Just as he said, Thor comes up behind him and wraps an arm across his back gently, trying his best not to disturb his injuries, and Tony cuts the first shackle. Peter’s arm falls gracelessly, an obvious wince and gasp heard by everyone. Steve mentally slaps himself for not being more mindful and gently lowering his arm.

          Before Steve can apologize, Sam comes up and holds out a jacket for Peter to put his first free arm into. The look he gives Sam almost makes the grown man cry right then and there.

          “T-thank you s-so mu-uch,” Peter can barely get a word out as he cries at the sight of something he’s been wishing for after so long.

          “It’s no problem, Peter,” Sam said with a warm smile.

          Tony gets the other chain off and Steve helps ease Peter’s arm down and into the jacket and zips it up. The jacket is obvious two sizes too big for the kid, but the way Peter clings to the cotton fabric like a lifeline makes Steve want to protect him for the rest of his life. With an audible warning, he lifts Peter bridal style and they make their way to the SUV.

          “Thank you, Sam, I wish I could repay you,” Steve said.

          Sam waves it off and offers a strained smile, “No need. Really, this is thankless. I’ll be heading back to S.H.I.E.L.D. now with D…” Sam notices the way Peter tenses at the slight mention of his living nightmare and quickly corrects himself. “I’m taking him,” he points to the still unconscious Dr. Neos, “back with me to be. I’ll keep you posted about our decision, but I can assure you that he won’t be seeing the light of day for as long as Peter breathes.”

          Steve gives a thankful nod and true smile before they part ways. Steve goes to buckle Peter in the seat in the back with Thor, but the kid starts crying and won’t let go of Steve’s uniform. It took several minutes to convince Peter to let go and cling to Thor instead, but he finally got him to switch places. Peter sits on Thor’s lap, sniffling and clutching his cape in white knuckles. Thor rubs, what he hopes is, a comforting hand through Peter’s long, brown hair. Steve grips the steering wheel tighter and promises to cut it once they settle back down and Peter is given treatment.

          “How you feeling, young one? Do you need me to attend to anything for you?” Thor asked, feeling guilty for only petting his head silently. His voice was surprisingly soft and comforting, nothing like his booming and demanding voice. He would comfort Loki in a similar manner after his baby brother had a nightmare when they were much, much younger.

          “I-I’m…o-okay, thank you. C-could…could you just h-hug me…please?” Peter’s eyes swell with tears, as if asking for something as simple as a hug would end up backfiring. As if this one request will earn him a lifetime of pain.

          “Of course, my friend.”

          Thor tightens his hold around Peter, who brings his legs closer to try and provide his bottom half with warmth, as well. They should have thought of bringing the poor kid some pants, Steve thought. Thor feels Peter relax more into his body and realizes that he’s fallen asleep. Steve looks through the review mirror and can’t help but feel something swell in his chest. Yes, Steve will protect their small bundle until the day he dies.


	11. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come Home, Peter. The team is reunited once again.  
> “I don’t- I didn’t- please, no."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on vacation right now but I didn't want to disappoint and I wrote a bunch of chapters in advance for y'all.  
> So here's some #Rehabilitation for Pete.

           It’s so warm. A soft and cozy feeling he could just sink into forever. When was the last time he felt this good? Peter thought. He slowly cracks his eyelids open and sees that there’s a mound of blankets on top of him. He lifts up the blanket and sees that he’s wearing black sweat pants but no shirt. A gracious smile forms on Peter’s face but stops midway, wondering when was the last time he smiled and if he truly deserved to. He looks to his left and notices an IV drip is connected to his arm, as well as thick, white gauze around both his writs. Peter goes to pull the needle out when a door startles him stiff.

           Jarvis notified the Team, who were anxiously waiting a few stories up, that their favorite web-slinger has woken up. When they make it to the glass door of the tower’s infirmary, Bruce takes the lead and opens the door. Peter stares at the mass of people and starts to feel warmth spread across his cheeks. How could he speak to them? Why should he? They are better off without him. He’s disgusting…he’s sure they know what’s happened to him. He pulls his glance down to the blankets on his lap and suddenly feels like he should throw them off because he’s so undeserving.

           Sensing the kid’s discomfort, Bruce clears his throat, “Morning, Peter, how’re you feeling? Any discomfort in your back?” This is easy, Bruce thought, just go into doctor mode and let the rest fall into routine.

           Without looking up, Peter bites his lip, thinking about telling Bruce he’s feeling a little pain but not wanting to get in trouble for being needy. He settles for, “I-I’m…alright, I guess…”

           That didn’t sound convincing at all, Bruce thought. “I’m going to go ahead and let you take some painkillers now, anyways, that way when it starts to hurt you won’t even notice.”

           “O-okay…” Peter said.

           The team slowly file into the spacious room and take up different spots, trying to not look like a giant, intimidating herd of people. Natasha and Clint got back this morning, and upon hearing the news were both elated and distraught.  Bruce hands Peter a light-blue pill and a glass of water. Without a second’s hesitation, the pill is gone and the glass empty. Master never let him have medicine to help with the pain, he’d do anything to make his body numb, Peter thought. Although, he can’t help starring at the empty glass thinking that he shouldn’t have done that. Peter sees the gauze in Bruce’s hands and wonders if there’s an injury he hadn’t gotten to while he was sleeping.

           “I’m going to have to remove that collar, clean the area, and wrap your neck with this, alright? We wanted to be…safe and not push any buttons that could – is it alright if I look at it?” Bruce asked.

           Peter simply nodded his head timidly and raised his chin for Bruce to get a better look. Bruce’s warm fingers brush his skin and he feels himself lean into the touch before pulling away, embarrassed. That didn’t go unnoticed to the team. Note: Peter needs affection, and lots of it. Bruce curses under his breath and Peter’s hands ball the sheets in fear that he’s made him angry. The collar is truly a work of genius; no seams or cracks, just a giant hoop of electrically conductive metal.

           Bruce looks over to Tony, “Could you bring over the remote, I guess we’ll have to-”

           “Please, no, M-mr. St-stark. I…” Peter starts hyperventilating, anguish crushing his lungs. Tears threaten to spill as they drown his brown eyes, “I don’t- I didn’t- please, no. I’m s-sorry! I didn’t m-mean to do anything wrong, I p-promise.”

           Everyone looks at each other, revolted at what the man has done to Peter. To make him believe that his choices will cause him pain.

           Tony was the first to speak, “Breathe, kiddo. That guy is long gone and taken care of. He won’t _ever_ get out, you hear that? _Ever_. No one’s going to use this remote to hurt you, do I make myself clear? No one.”

           Tony repeated himself, reinstating the key things Peter needs to hear. Peter looked quizzically at Tony, as if he didn’t believe his begging would actually get him out of a punishment. They never did.

           However, at the questions, Peter can only nod his head while he tries to find his breath and control his emotions. These were his friends, for crying out loud! Peter thought. They wouldn’t…they couldn’t hurt him…right?

           Tony takes that as a good start and continues, “We only wanted to ask you if you knew which button it is to open the collar. We could’ve figured it out ourselves, but obviously, that’d be a terrible idea. Could you help us out, kiddo?”

           Peter finally slows his breathing with the help of Bruce’s comforting hand rubbing his shoulder softly. He had entirely forgotten about the collar even being on his neck; it’s been so long since his last “session”, he better not screw this up.

           “M-may I, er, am I…a-allowed to hold it? Mast…um, Dr. N-neos said it’s a no-no,” Peter was barely able to get anything out through the lump in his throat. Talking about the remote alone was a _huge_ no-no…but they didn’t know that, so maybe – just this once – it would be okay to disobey.

           “Of course, you can, kiddo. This isn’t a “no-no”.”

           Peter’s reaches out a shaking hand and feels the remote for the first time. He’s all too familiar with the first and third buttons, those are to be avoided at all costs. Maybe it’s the fourth one? Master’s never pushed that one…but…it could also mean he’s never been that bad to where Master would need to punish him so unkindly. Should…should he ask? The already let him hold it so maybe asking won’t be so bad.

           “I-” Peter stops, fear taking hold of his voice and rendering him silent. Rule number three is don’t ask, Peter’s subconscious reminds him. What if they get angry that he doesn’t know the answer? Think, Peter, think!

           Tony glances at Bruce, a silent conversation running between them. Something’s going on in that kid’s mind, Tony thought.

           “Hey, kiddo…Peter, hey look at me,” Tony said.

           Peter instantly makes eye contact with Tony for the first time and winces, thinking that he’s mad Peter hasn’t produced an answer by now.

           “It’s alright if you don’t know, we won’t hold it against you. Do you have any guesses? We won’t be mad, we just want to make sure we don’t hurt you in the process.”

           The kind voice, the soft smile, and gentle eyes ease Peter from the brink of panic. He lets out a shaky breath, “I-it could be t-this one.” Peter points to the fourth button and looks up to Tony, seeking approval.


	12. Breathing Underwater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With time, everything must heal.  
> “Merry Christmas!”
> 
> ...even though it's June.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter is a little rushed? Maybe because it's sort of like a montage. I'm good at writing torture-y stuff, but when it comes down to recovering and fluff...yeahhh heh. Is that bad?  
> But I mean, he has known the Avengers for a while now (in this story line) and he knows he's safe around them, despite the constant nagging in the back of his head about not being a "good boy" and such.

         Tony feels sick looking into Peter’s broken eyes. How could he have let this happen? With all the money and tech in the world he couldn’t locate this fucking maniac. It’s so hard to breathe knowing that, even with an elite task force, they couldn’t find what was underneath them this whole time. However, he can’t think like this right now, Peter is top priority. He needs all the love, security, reassurance, and support he can get.

         Luckily, with a lot of hesitation and cringing, the button didn’t send Peter into a whirlwind of agony. The collar clicks and falls off his neck, exposing pink and red skin from the constant abuse. He can feel the tension in the room, everyone’s eyes settling on the forefront of the problem. It was easier, albeit still impossibly difficult, to deal with when Peter was so distant. It was easier in a hard way when the problem wasn’t smack-dab in their faces. Not to say that Peter is a problem! Absolutely not. They just hadn’t thought about what to do at this point. It was always: find Peter! Where’s Peter? Is Peter okay? Why can’t we find him? And now, everyone seems to be at a loss.

         “Good job, kiddo,” Tony said in the silence. But his voice doesn’t reach his own ears, like he’s speaking underwater. And the way Peter noticeably lightens up slightly at the praise makes him shudder.

         “Can you let Bruce clean your neck up?” Tony asked.

         “Yes!”

         The kid has completely shifted gears upon hearing that one praise. Like it gave him confidence. Tony let’s Bruce work and takes a couple steps back to lean against the wall next to Steve. He and Tony may have their differences, but they can agree on one thing: bring this kid back to life.

 ...

         They all head up the elevator to go do whatever they need to do. Once Peter started to drift off to sleep, they told him to stop fighting it and just sleep. He gladly accepted the task. For the first time in Tony’s life, going down to his workshop just seemed inappropriate. He can’t put 100% of his mind into a new gadget if he has a child in need upstairs. It’ll take some time, no doubt, until Peter is back to his normal self, or at least as normal as he can get. He settles for turning in early, even if it’s only 2AM. Steve gives him a weird yet understanding look and bids him a goodnight.

         December 21st, 2017:

         It’s officially been one week since Peter was rescued. Steve’s cut his hair to its usual short look, which brought on a giant smile from the teen. Though Peter might still find it troublesome to keep eye-contact for longer than a few seconds, he’s slowly getting better with being around people. His Master’s…kidnapper’s (Tony told Peter not to refer to him like that anymore) rules do not apply anymore; it’s alright to ask questions, it’s alright to speak when he wants to, and he’s a good boy who deserves things just as much as everyone else. Natasha took him shopping yesterday, too, and Peter found himself enjoying her company. He feels more comfortable near her and often seeks her out when he secretly wants hugs or affection. The team isn’t oblivious, it makes sense that he would be more comfortable with a female than a male at the moment. They won’t force him to stop.

         They couldn’t possibly tell him to stop going to her room in the middle of the night, crying and hiccupping, because of a nightmare. They couldn’t tell him to stop those small, rare giggles that come from him when Natasha pokes him in the ribs. They aren’t heartless. In a way, she reminds him of her Aunt. The way she treats him like an adult, but also showers him in motherly affection. Her youthful smile when no one is looking. Her understanding. Although Aunt May is irreplaceable, Natasha definitely has a place in his heart.

         December 25th, 2017:

         Peter walks down the hall and enters the elevator. Mr. Stark told him last night to come to the common room first thing, so that’s what he’s doing. Wearing pink Hello Kitty pajama pants his Aunt used to wear and an oversized, white t-shirt that belonged to Uncle Ben. His hair is sticking up and slightly knotted at the base. At least he decided to brush his teeth…hopefully Mr. Stark won’t notice that he didn’t come straight down first thing.

         The elevator doors open silently and his eyes grow with child-like glee. A ginormous tree with lights, ribbons, bulbs, and figurines adorns the middle of the room. He walks closer and notices the abundant number of gifts under the tree. He stretches out a hand and touches the tree, it’s real.

         “Merry Christmas!” Tony called.

         Peter turns and sees his adoptive family, faces glowing with smiles. Before he can react or say anything, Steve is already opening his mouth.

         “Let’s eat and then open the presents, yeah? Made some of your favorites, so come on!” Steve said while waving a hand towards the kitchen.

         The meal is delicious, not that it was anything out of the ordinary, but because for the first time in a while he openly laughs a little louder. He smiles a little more genuine. His eyes are a little brighter. They did this for him. Maybe he really is a good boy. Even if the guilt of going on hiatus from Spider-Man is a constant thought every day, he’s starting to realize that he can’t go out trying to save someone if he hasn’t even saved himself.

         He finds himself vibrating with barely concealed euphoria when it’s time to open the gifts. He nearly cracks his face in two with the girth of his smile when Clint tells him half the gifts are actually his. Peter’s never had so many presents before. His Aunt and Uncle usually gave him three or four, which was enough and made him happy. Now he has thirteen! His eyes cloud with tears but he doesn’t want to cry and ruin the moment. The team notices the rush of emotions Peter is trying to hold back and go in for a group hug.

         Maybe they can bring their little Spidey back, after all.


	13. Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In regards to the next chapters and the past "recovery" chapters.

Date: 1 July 2017    Time: 11:21PM

Sorry this next chapter is taking so long to upload. I'm trying to finish it as fast as I can while still making sure that it's clean of any errors and such. There's no excuse. This next chapter is going to be a long one and Peter will go through some more development that will ultimately push the story along. People have some concerns about Peter's speedy recovery, and I can see what you mean - especially after going through what he went through. So I will also be adding some more believable recovery moments in the next chapter as well. Thank you all for the support thus far and I hope you haven't lost faith in me yet! New chapter coming as soon as possible/probably tomorrow ( July 3rd).

 

Thank you all for the understanding!

xoxo 


	14. It's Raining More Than Ever (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team must go to Russia and leave Peter with a babysitter.  
> “So, where’s that fantastic, friendly neighborhood bug-boy[...]"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. I'm in the middle of filming and finally found some time to edit the piece. This is going to be a little longer than the rest of the chapters, so I'll be posting it in two parts. I cover a lot in this one :) I'll post part two today as well. I just need to finish it and edit it.

           “We can’t just leave!” Tony’s voice echoes across the workshop, “Do you not know what everyone has been through these past several months? What do think this would do to _him?_ I don’t care if it’s only a few days…Fine! We’ll be there, but you’re paying the babysitter.” Tony slams his phone down and runs a hand over his face.

           “Fury needs us?” Bruce knowingly asked. There’s only one person Tony would get that hot headed with, and Steve still chooses in-person arguments rather than “mobile cellular devices”. Bruce puts his tool town and removes his glasses.

           “Yeah. We have to go to Russia and take care of some business for a couple days, we’ll be debriefed on the jet. We leave by noon,” Tony, now irritated, said.

           After Tony tells the team about the mission, no one is okay with leaving Peter alone. He’s only now getting comfortable enough to go back to school, they can’t even leave him alone for a few hours without him seeking someone out to make sure they’re still here. There’s only one other person that owes Clint a favor for helping his crazy ass during one of his patrols.

           Wade Wilson.

 

…

           “Alright, so you need me to watch the little web-slinger? Easy, breezy, beautiful. Kids love me,” Wade, clad in his Deadpool attire, said.

           It wasn’t until Wade opened his mouth did they regret ever inviting him in. What were they thinking? They can’t leave their child with this…this outrageously unfiltered mercenary.

           “They do?” Steve asked with a quirked eyebrow and firm jaw.

           Wade gives Steve a credulous look, “Well of course. I used to watch my neighbor’s kid all the time. Why is that so hard to believe?”

           Everyone looks at Deadpool with slight confusion, shock, and surprise. After the crazed and insane man found Francis and dealt with him, he’s been more focused and not so out-of-control.

           “So, where’s that fantastic, friendly neighborhood bug-boy, anyways? I heard he was trapped by the exterminator – how’s the little guy doin’? Let me tell you, been there done that, am I right? No but seriously, someone tell me what happened.”

           Wade goes from one topic to the next, not hindered by the previous awkward silence. It’s too late to find another person they can leave with Peter; believe it or not, but they surprisingly trust Wade on a certain, professional level. They at least know he wouldn’t harm an innocent person…on purpose. Steve debriefs Wade of the incident and the room is left in a heavy cloud for Peter and a thick silence no one knows how to break.

           How could a kid go through all that for so long? Wade thought. He brings his hand up to grasp his chin in an expression of deep pondering. When people look at his newly deformed skin, they can’t help but scrunch their noses up in disgust or just flat out look at him with pity, some even throw things at him and call him names. He knows the feeling of isolation. To be suffering alone in a pool of misunderstanding and self-hatred. Peter can’t go through what he went through, Wade concluded. He nods his head in agreement with his inner dialogue.

           “Well…school is almost out, so he should be back in a few hours,” Tony knocked him back to the present, bringing his head up to cast his masked eyes at the billionaire. “We have to leave so I’m only going to say this once: be nice to Peter, respect his boundaries, and DO NOT hurt him.”

           “Yes, papa,” Wade said halfheartedly before turning around to snoop.

           “Fuck…if he touches any one of my things I’m going to cut off both his hands,” Clint growled.

 

…

           Being back in school is becoming tough and stressful, but he could never tell his family that. They’re so proud of him for giving it a try, he should at least make it to the end of the semester. When Steve asked if he would be going back to school, Peter saw the hope in the Captain’s eyes and couldn’t deny him. He must be a good boy and make them proud. He can’t make them angry. No, never angry.

           The walk home always gives him some time to really think about his life and situation. Which can sometimes be a bad thing. He doesn’t know what he’d do if the Avengers decided he was no longer an asset. If they abandoned him, he’d truly fall apart. _Dang it!_ Clint told him thinking like this isn’t healthy. He should think about more positive things, like: going back to school, having a family of super heroes, and being able to live in the one and only Avengers tower. Before, he would just sit in his room and scold himself the way his Mas…the way his kidnapper did. And one afternoon, Clint came into his room while Peter was angrily looking down at his lap where he sat in the center of the room. It bothered Clint, Peter could tell. From the way he slowly entered the room to the gentle voice and worry-filled eyes. So, Peter told him what was on his mind – not just because his kidnapper taught him that the truth is better than forced pleasure, but because Clint was his friend.

He stops and stares at the expansive building in front of him. For a moment, he’s shocked he somehow blindly made it home, lost in his thoughts. A kid walks by wearing a Thor t-shirt and suddenly, he can’t wait to get the Asgardian to play video games with him. Not that Thor is necessarily good at games, it’s just entertaining to watch him get frustrated with the remote. And…maybe even ask the gentle warrior if he could try to lift his hammer…again.

           The elevator door slides open to an empty common room. It’s a little late to be sparring, Peter thought, and Steve is usually making something for dinner right about now. He checks the gym and sees that it’s vacant. Same with Tony’s workshop. Now _that_ is extremely off-putting.

           They’re all gone. They aren’t sparring and they aren’t in their rooms. They wouldn’t have just left him. They wouldn’t do that. He just got them back, they can’t leave him. His eyes start to sting and he slides down the glass wall to the workshop. Between sniffles, Peter looks up to the ceiling.

           “Jarvis, where is everyone?” Peter asked, anxiety creeping in his voice.

           “They have gone on a two-day mission in Russia, they will return by Sunday evening, young Mr. Parker,” Jarvis supplied.

           “O-oh…thank y-you.”

           “You are quite welcome.”

           That knowledge helped ease the pain slightly, yet he still feels abandoned. He takes the elevator back up and goes to the kitchen to get a glass cup out of the cabinet. Wade hears the clutter and skips down the hall. He pops his head around the corner a jovially yells his greeting. Peter drops the cup, effectively shattering it, before jumping onto the ceiling.

           Unfazed, Wade approaches the trembling spider, “Neat trick, baby boy, but as your official child watcher I don’t think it’s safe for you to play on the ceiling.”

           “Deadpool…w-why – what are you doing here?” With visibly shaking limbs, Peter lets go of the ceiling and lands on his feet with a soft thud.

           “Isn’t it obvious? I’m your babysitter! And as – hold on a second…were you crying?” Wade tilts his head and crosses his arms over his chest and leans forward to observe the startled boy’s face.

           Peter quickly wipes his face with his trembling hands and takes a step back. Why is Deadpool here? Peter thought franticly. Why would his family leave him with a maniac? Would Deadpool be mad at him for showing such a despicable weakness? He doesn’t know this man, what he could possibly do to him. He hates to be disciplined, he hates being forced to perform sexual acts, he doesn’t want to go back there. He can’t!

           Despite wiping the tear tracks away merely a second ago, his chest tightens around his heart and lungs. A large lump forms at the base of his neck, his lower lip quivers slightly, and his eyes grow blurry. He hasn’t spoken to anyone other than the team. At school, he eats by himself in the restroom, sits in class by himself, and basically blends in with the background, keeping his head low and hood up. He doesn’t like this, Deadpool leaning into him and staring. Peter’s body aches thinking about his torture, thinking about the humiliation, thinking about how Deadpool probably knows everything that’s happened to him. He feels warm and looks away from the silent man in front of him and utters an apology for being so disgusting.

           His voice is raw and cracks. He wraps his arms around himself in a hug-like manner and squeezes. He did this a lot back in his old “safe room” when his kidnapper would end a particularly hard session and he was left alone to pick up his fragmented mind. He can hear his own heartbeat and suddenly feels extremely self-conscious. He shifts from one foot to the other on weak legs. The air feels warm and cold at the same time. A single tear falls, soon more cascade down his lightly blushed cheeks and drip off his trembling chin. Why would his family abandon him? Peter asked himself. No! He corrected. They didn’t abandon him, they just went on a mission like Jarvis said. They’re coming back for him. They _have_ to.

           “Baby boy, hey look at me, it’s alright I won’t hurt you,” Wade surprises himself at the tenderness in his voice. Something about the look of pure self-deprecation in the eyes of someone highly acclaimed by many other heroes to be so innocent, brings a new side out of him he didn’t know was still in there. Nothing seemed to still be left ever since he’s been completely mutilated inside and out. He’s seen that look plenty of times in the mirror, but he himself isn’t the purest of people. Not like this child shaking in front of him.

           “Don’t cry, okay? There’s nothing to be sad about. Your friends will be home before you know it and then everything will be as straight as a heterosexual, you just have to hang in there. And just call me Wade, ‘kay, baby boy?”

           Peter sniffles and wipes at the slowly falling tears, “M’kay…” He so badly needs a hug, he needs Thor to hug him so tight he feels like he’s being put back together again. But they aren’t here, none of them are. And just like that, the pain is back and the tears fall faster.

           Deadpool, A.K.A. Wade, turns around and opens the fridge door. At first, Peter feels like Wade is done with him already…like he’ll leave Peter, too. Peter hugs himself tightly to the best of his ability and tries to stifle his gasps.

Wade closes the door and produces a tub of vanilla ice cream. When he was feeling like shit, he’d eat an entire tub and feel slightly better after, so maybe this will help? Wade pondered. He feels at a loss. He could barely take care of his own issues; how can he soothe the boy? He takes one look at Peter and places the tub onto the counter before enveloping the quaking teen in a warm gentle embrace. Was this the right decision? Wade asked himself.

           Peter instantly stiffens and opens his eyes wide to see red and black surrounding him. At first, he’s scared Wade is going to hurt him but after several moments nothing happens and he lets the small voice telling him “it’s okay” win and loosens up a bit. The tears slow to a stop, leaving him in the hiccupping and sniffling phase. He looks to the counter to see the vanilla ice cream then looks up at Wade, who has had his chin resting on the boy’s head.

           Peter blinks a few stray tears away before speaking, “S-sorry, Mr. Wade…I…Are you m-mad?” His breath catches, the fear of his consequences taking over.

           “What? _Mad?_   Just because you needed to let out a little pent up tension doesn’t mean I’ll be angry with you,” Wade responded, feeling slightly caught off-guard at the severity of the kid’s lack of self-confidence.

           “Hey! I know what’ll make you feel better: ice cream! And it might even sooth your throat,” Wade said. He knows that after all Peter’s gasping and crying, his throat must feel a little sore. “How’s that sound?”

           “It’s okay if I eat ice cream before dinner?” Peter asked in a small voice.

           Wade can’t help but melt at the innocence of it all. Not a second later he’s absolutely revolted towards the man that has defiled such a pure human. He looks down to Peter, and even though Peter can’t see it, he smiles gently and puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

           “Of course, it’s okay, baby boy. Afterwards, if you still feel like eating some food, I can order some pizza. So how ‘bout it? Wanna crack open that tub and eat it all up?” Wade tried to sound as enthusiastic as possible to cheer the boy up. Unfortunately, he still looked unsure as he nodded slowly.

           His kidnapper gave him ice cream, once, when he was being a good boy, Peter thought. Does that mean Wade thinks he’s good?


	15. It's Raining More Than Ever Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clouds cry, too.  
> “Now, let’s go find Master,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you guys seen Tom Holland doing his lip sync battle? So cute.  
> https://youtu.be/7BQ-PFK1MAw << For those who haven't ;) You're welcome.  
> Also, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. It was difficult to write, not because of the angst or anything, it was just hard to focus over the last few days.
> 
> Happy Fourth Of July.

           “See, aren’t you glad you ate all that ice cream?” Wade asked.

           An empty tub was flipped to its side between the two of them on the table, as well as two empty bowls with milky residue left over. Peter had his head resting against the cool table, looking out the floor to ceiling windows, barely taking in Wade’s voice. He wishes that he can just be better, to just get over what happened to him. Why can’t he block out the pain and humiliation? Why must he take everything and relate it to his kidnapper’s rules and regulations? He breathes deeply and exhales a bit of tension. Bruce taught him that.

           “Come with me,” Wade suddenly commanded.

           And just like that, Peter’s following him blindly into the elevator like an obedient pet. Why does he trust people so easily? Who knows what’s going on in that crazy guy’s head. What if he has other motives and winds up making Peter even more of a mess? He watches as Wade presses the button to take them to the roof, however he doesn’t question it or prevent it. He just slumps against the wall and stares into nothing. If Wade wants to fuck him on the roof…so be it. He hardly registers Wade’s heavy sigh. He somehow starts “turning off” in a way, sort of like he’s just disconnecting. The same thing happened at school, when things were getting too hard. Not even Flash can get a spark out of him. It’s been happening recently, the first time being last week. Cool night air caresses his face as the doors slide open. They step onto the gravely ground of the roof, Peter still trailing behind Wade until he stops at the edge.

           He copies Wade, and looks over the railing and across the large buildings and slow-moving traffic. Nights like these reminds him of how it all began. He shudders and backs away from the railing. Backs away from Wade.

           “I know,” Wade said.

           Peter looks to Wade, who’s facing him now and leaning against the railing with his arms crossed. For a moment, Peter is mortified that he’s talking about how he knows what his kidnapper has done to him, but the tone of his voice convinces him of otherwise.

           “Know what?” Peter asked softly, trying to make his eyes focus.

           “How it feels.”

           There’s no joking in his voice, no sarcasm, no false empathy. It’s filled with understanding, pain, and trust.

           “Long story short, I went insane after this monster named Francis ruin- _changed_ my life. I see what he’s done to me every time I look in a mirror. I was angry more than anything, though, and went on a rampage just to find and end the guy. I let him control me even when he wasn’t around, so figured I should take him out completely and maybe I’ll be alright.”

           Peter creases his eyebrows at the unsaid indication that Francis was killed. He takes in his words and feels a small sense of pride that Wade is disclosing this with him. What is he trying to get at, though? Peter asked himself. Maybe he’s saying that he needs to figure out a way to come to terms with this and find his own closure.

           “Why are you telling me this?” Peter asked.

           Wade steps closer and places a hand on Peter’s shoulder, who flinches at the warm touch, “Because, baby boy, I’m trying to tell you that you aren’t _ever_ alone. I know how it feels to be empty, to feel emotionally unstable, to not want to go out because you’re afraid everyone’s going to think you’re disgusting or know what you’ve done. You just need to breathe and take it one day at a time. It’s okay to trust people still…you just need to be smart about it.”

           They stay up there most of the evening and watch the sun set. Peter takes in what the mercenary has told him and begins to understand. He needs to take back everything that was stolen from him. If he wants to move on and heal he needs to act and face it head on.

           He needs to kill Dr. Neos.

 

…

           It took a few hours before Peter calls it safe enough to sneak out of his room. He has his backpack of essentials and suit under his clothes. It’s been several months since he’s worn his suit, and if he were being honest with himself, it feels comforting. As if he’s truly the strong and relentless hero so many admire and believe in. Only, he isn’t. But he will be, once he finishes the monster that created this weakling. He knows that he can’t kill him with his webs, they weren’t designed that way, nor created for that purpose. So, he sneaks into Tony’s workshop and snatches the metal collar he’s grown so familiar with. Yeah, he’s going to give the nice doctor a session of his own.

           “Now, let’s go find _Master_ ,” Peter said.

 

…

           Wade wakes up with a jolt and swears he heard a voice coming from somewhere in his room.

           “Mr. Wilson,” A British voice said.

           Wade, startled, leaps out of bed and lunges for his katanas, “ _Shit._ You better come out!”

           “Mr. Wilson,” The voice sounds tired and annoyed at the same time. “It appears that Peter is leaving the building and heading south.”

           Suddenly, Wade remembers the A.I. Tony was talking to him about when he was only half listening. He quickly throws on his suit and picks up the tracker Jarvis guided him to. Apparently, the suit has a chip in it. He runs to the underground parking garage and hops on his motorcycle. Looks like he’s picked up speed, Wade thought. Must be webbing around. He races out the garage and dodges a car by inches before crossing onto the right side of the road. Why is the kid going to the outskirts of the city?

           Thunder rolls overhead, the beginnings of a storm. The clouds are dark and heavy looking. It takes him 45 minutes of weaving and dodging cars before he sees the blinking dot on the tracker come to a complete stop. He speeds up and finally makes it to an empty lot. There’s construction tape around the fences and rubble from a previous building. What’s he doing here, Wade thought. He jumps over the fence and expects to see Peter. He walks over to where the blinking dot on the tracker says Peter should be, yet there’s no one here.

           “Greaaat, leave me with the broken gadgets. I see how you play, Stark,” Wade said to the open air. He takes his eyes off the tracker and turns around. He quickly notices a small trapdoor is open across the lot and he jogs up to it before plunging into the dim light.

           If the kid is in here, he’s chosen a freaky place to play hide-and-seek, Wade thought. There’s pictures and diagrams of different species of arachnids on the walls that give him an itchy feeling.

           “Spidey, you here?” Wade calls out.

           After a moments silence, he hears a footfall down the hall and takes off running in its direction. He turns left and runs straight into Peter, who’s been waiting for Wade upon being called for.

           “What are you doing following me? You have no right,” Peter’s voice is different, Wade notes. It’s tight, deeper…angrier.

           “ _You’re_ questioning _me_ when you’re the one who snuck out at 3 A.M.? And to come to _this_ dump? Yeah, we aren’t playing that game. Come on, Sticky-fingers, we’re going home,” Wade said.

           He grabs the boys forearm and drags him towards the entrance. On the way there, he passes by a room with dangling chains, another one with a single bed, he notes that all the walls have pictures of spiders, he can feel Peter shaking slightly, either by rage or fear he isn’t sure. His mind falters at a sudden spark of realization. After they talked on the roof, Peter had that look in his he couldn’t place, but now he understands. He’s looking for that doctor-guy, which means that this place was Spidey’s…

           Wade stops at the first stair step leading out and turns around. He looks at Peter, who seems to be fuming silently in Wade’s hold. He goes to open his mouth, to say something, but only air fills the silence. What is he even supposed to say to him, Wade thought. It’s not like he can flat out ask: “is this where that scientist raped and tortured you?” He turns around and trudges up the stairs. The rain is sprinkling down, the thunder promising the rain will grow heavier and come down faster. Peter rips his arm out of Wade’s grasp and stands there unmoving, letting the small rain droplets plop over him.

           “You have no right,” Peter said, pointing a finger in Wade’s masked face.

           “Are you really going to make a scene right now?” Wade asked.

           Uncaring of Wade’s comment, Peter takes his mask off and throws it to the muddy ground.

           “Tony isn’t going to like that,” Wade went to pick it up, however Peter webs his hand to his side, preventing him from lifting it.

           Wade cocks his head and exhales sharply and annoyed, “Okay, I tried to be relaxed and cool-headed about all this, but get your nasty-ass web off me! Don’t you think I’ve caught on by now, baby boy? You came here to _murder_ someone. _You_. The “friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man” isn’t a killer. We all know that. You know that. What were you thinking?” Using his other hand, Wade takes out his pocket knife and starts to cut away at the thick webs, “What the hell even are these?”

           “You’re the one who told me that this is what it took! I’m sick and tired of feeling so pathetic and worthless. I can’t go a day without thinking about him, about his rules, without feeling his touch on my skin. I feel disgusting! He killed me. He killed Peter. I-I don’t even know who I am, anymore. Everyone expects me to be fine and normal again that I just learned to play along. I don’t want to make anyone angry with me. If they get angry, they’ll- they’ll…I c-can’t. I c-can’t lose any more people in my life…I won’t make it.

           “So, yes! I came here to find him and kill him. But lucky you not having to stop me from executing the bastard because look around- he isn’t here! He wins. He isn’t here! There’s nothing in there but the person I used to be. I need to find him, I need to finish this game and be okay again. I can’t keep feeling like this. It’s been hell trying to act like I’m all better again. Well it stops tonight. Wade, I _need_ to do this, because that’s what you did and you seem to be doing a lot better than I am!”

           The rain is starting to fall faster, creating puddles in the mud. Wade is stunned silent after hearing the meek child raise his voice, to throw so much rage at him, to look so lost and scared. But, if there’s one thing he got wrong, it’s that he hasn’t gotten better. Killing someone doesn’t make them go away. Once he killed, he was never the same. No one would be. He just became closer to the monster that created him.

           Wade steps forward, closing the distance between them, and rips off his mask, exposing his pink, scarred flesh. His face is deformed and lumpy in some areas, scaly and marred. Peter’s eyes grow wide and he steps back, not taking his eyes off Wade.

           “Do I “seem to be doing a lot better” now? Just because I got rid of that man doesn’t mean he doesn’t still exist. I see him every time I look in a mirror- fuck, every time I look at my skin! Killing him felt good, I must admit. But it sure as fuckity-hell didn’t make me better. I didn’t all of a sudden have a normal life. I didn’t all of a sudden forget all the things he’s done to me. Nope. I’m still this gross, shit-face. It wasn’t until years later did I realize that I need to make the decision to live life. To make the change to get better. There’s only one person that can make you whole again: you. _You_ control your reaction. You’re going to have to _want_ to recover, not buy it at Walmart! If you don’t want to get better, then you won’t. So, stop fucking around and feeling sorry for yourself, pick up your damn mask before Tony has a tantrum, and don’t let what happened control you!”

           Wade puts his mask back on and returns to his motorcycle. He revs it up and waits for the kid. Peter takes an extra second to let one tear finally fall down his left cheek. The words hitting him straight in the heart and slapping him in the face. He runs to his mask and tries to remove as much mud as he can. The guilt chewing at his insides. Wade’s right. He needs to stop waiting for other people to make him feel better, he can’t cry every time the team leave, he can’t freak out when he hasn’t seen them for more than twenty minutes. He has to stop putting on a mask of false happiness. He needs to be brave. He needs to be strong and heal on his own time schedule.

           He puts the mask in his backpack and promises to wash it with all the love he can give. Finding Wade, he hesitantly walks up to the roaring motorcycle.

           Wade holds out a helmet for Peter, “Get on, baby boy.”

           That’s all he needs before shoving his head in the black helmet and hopping onto the backseat. He wraps his arms around Wade and buries his helmeted head against Wade’s back. The tears won’t stop this time and he squeezes tighter. Not as a way of asking for a hug or comfort, but as a thank you. He gasps and coughs as more tears wash over him, the last remaining tears of his torment.

           “It’s gonna be okay, Pete, I’m taking you home now.”

           The rain falls harder, Peter grips onto Wade’s suit tighter. The cold rain water cools his heated body. Cools his hatred as he let’s go of the monster that he won’t let win. The rain cleanses him.

           And like the trees and flowers, the water gives him life.


	16. It All Comes Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life will thrive.  
> “See you around the neighborhood, Mr. Friendly Spider.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is at it's timely end. I'm so happy with the response this story has gotten and to those who like it. You have no idea how happy it makes me ⊂( ◜◒◝ )⊃

           Peter wakes up the next morning and blinks several times before his vision clears and eyes adjust to the brightness. He jumps, startled for a brief moment, after finding himself in his bedroom. He sits up and looks down to the soft, blue bedspread and tries to remember what happened. His face glows red upon realizing that he had a complete emotional meltdown in front of _Deadpool._ His hands reach up and cup his face as he lets out a long breath.

_“Alright, baby boy, let’s get you inside before you catch a cold,” Wade said, hopping off his motorcycle with Peter lethargically copying him._

_He debated going to the parking garage, but one glance at Peter told him to get the kid inside as quickly as possible. Powerful emotional outbursts and meltdowns can take a serious toll on the body. The rain was coming down in showers, soaking both the spandex-clad heroes. Wade quickly led Peter inside the front doors and into the Avengers tower. He hears the boy chattering his teeth and looks over his shoulder to see Peter hugging himself in an attempt to get warm. Wade had to admit the rain was slightly chilling, but not cold enough to be showing symptoms like Peter._

_The elevator goes straight to Peter’s room and Wade feels his lip curl at his choice of decorations. A blue bed with red pillows in the center of the room, on the opposite end is a bookshelf and on top is a collection of Avengers action figures, a desk with a cork-board of all his thoughts and little notes to himself, a selfie of him and Tony, and a blue nightlight plugged into the outlet nearest the bathroom. The sound of teeth hitting teeth brings him back to the moment and he drags Peter to the bathroom._

_“First things first, we need to get this wet suit off you,” Wade said, turning around to draw a warm bath. When he turns back to Peter, the kid hasn’t made a move to remove anything and just stands their shaking with knitted eyebrows and big, brown eyes._

_“Come on, the warm bath will feel so good, I promise. I don’t mean to rush you, but I’d really like to change out of these wet clothes, too.”_

_Peter blinks several times, as if getting rid of tears, “C-can you not…please d-don’t do anything.” His voice is soft and uncertain._

_Wade realizes his mistake and changes tactics instantly, “Oh, I don’t think you heard me right. I meant: you get undressed and hop into the bath and I’ll turn around to give you privacy. I’m not some pervy-perv, Spidey-baby.”_

_Peter inhales sharply and releases a breathy, “O-okay,” before looking at Wade expectantly._

_On cue, he turns around and listens to the silence before the sound of Peter hitting the center of the suit fills the room. He hears it hit the floor and Peter slowly ease into the warm, sudsy water._

_“O-okay, you can turn around now…” Peter said in a voice Wade swears sounded like a child._

_After a few moments, Wade left to rinse off and change into sweats and a hoodie (for the sake of trying to cover up the majority of his skin for the sake of the kid). Yeah, it hurt seeing him back away from him when he took off his mask. He never wants to see Peter afraid of him like that ever again. Mustering all his courage, he opens the door, prepared for the initial shock and gasp at the sight of his skin. But Peter is asleep with a peaceful look on his face. He knows if Peter was awake, he would probably feel extremely uncomfortable with Wade was about to do. There’s no way he can leave him here all night, and it looks like the kid hardly ever sleeps._

_With much tenderness and care, he drains the tub, a towel ready and looks away before covering Peter’s lower half with it. It takes some fumbling, but once Peter is dried and in his arms, he realizes that he’s too light. He picks a pair of boxers and puts them on with his eyes closed, he may be asleep but he will give him the dignity that he deserves. And with that, he tucks him in bed and turns out the lights._

           Peter cringes at the thought of Wade seeing him naked. He mentally slaps himself for letting him be so vulnerable, but stops that train of thought in its tracks. No, he won’t be upset with himself. He was tired, emotionally drained and the bath just rally soothed all his tense muscles. He can’t keep kicking himself for things his body needs or for the things he does. It’s time to heal and he can’t do that if he’s always calling himself weak. He’s strong.

           There’s a knock on his door and he brings the sheets up to his chin. Tony comes through the door and looks taken back by Peter’s wakefulness.

           Tony chuckles at how Peter looks like a child watching an R-rated movie for the first time, “What, no welcome party?” He strides over and sits on the edge of the bed. As soon as he makes contact with the mattress, he feels strong arms envelop him in a hug.

           “I’m so glad you’re back! I hope everyone is okay,” Peter said into the side of Tony’s white t-shirt.

           Tony looks over and see’s Peter in just his boxers, “Yeah, well, good to be back, kiddo. Breakfast is ready, so put some clothes on and meet me down there,” Tony said, giving him a small smile and a wink.

           After he gives him one final squeeze, Tony let’s go of the hug and is out the door. After last night, something in Peter’s changed, as if closure is finally starting to take place.

           He enters the kitchen and common room expecting to see Wade, however he can’t find him.

           “Hey, everyone,” Peter greets quietly, in that soft and innocent voice he owns.

           Everyone greets him with large smiles, Natasha gives him a tender hug that Peter melts into. Thor follows and picks him up in a bear hug, leaving Peter giggling and coughing.

           “Umm…have you guys seen Wade?” Peter asked tentatively.

           “We paid him and he went on his way,” Tony supplied. “Come, sit at the table and eat something.”

           Breakfast felt like a mix of blurs and disconnection. He smiles and answers all their questions about how he did while they were away (minus the part where he left in the middle of the night in a blood thirsty rage, of course). And, out of curiosity, he asked them about the mission, which intrigued him. Yet, he can’t get this wounded feeling out of his chest. He sort of figured that Wade was just…well there to help out the team take care of him during the mission. He isn’t surprised that money was involved, but for him to leave without a goodbye made him feel like Wade really didn’t want to be here…which meant that he probably wasn’t expecting to deal with all this mess. He was probably relieved that the team came home early. Food no longer tasted good and he pushed his plate away from him, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by his chatty table occupants. Before they could speak, he says he’s going to do some makeup assignments from science class and exists.

           He locks his bedroom door behind him and grabs his second Spider-Man suit he still hasn’t had the opportunity to clean the last one. He quickly bounces out of his clothes and tosses them aimlessly to the floor.

           “Jarvis…c-could you do this one favor for me and…and not tell anyone about me leaving?” Peter asked.

           “Do you believe that is the wisest choice?” The British I.A. said.

           “Please?”

           The computer sighed, “Fine.”

           Peter gives his thanks and opens his window.

           The wind rushing round his body has never felt this refreshing, almost as if he’s waking the old him up.

           “Hey, Karen, where does a “Wade Wilson” live?” Peter asked his suit.

           “You mean the man who stayed within the Avengers tower last night? He should be in this location; would you like me to give you the fastest route?” Karen politely replied.

           A map with a glowing red dot marked Wade’s location and Peter took the fastest route, guided by his suit. He made it to an old apartment complex that reminded him somewhat of his own apartment back in Queens…well, not that it’s his anymore. He shakes the thoughts away and scales the wall. He asks Karen which room Wade’s in and she guides him to the third floor on the north facing side.

           He slides open the window and climbs onto the ceiling, closing the window with his right foot. He hears a flush followed by the sound of running water from the bathroom. The door opens and Wade steps out in only shorts and a white tank top. Without realizing it, Peter is frozen on the spot, staring at all of marred skin that will forever disfigure the mercenary.

           “Fucking hell!” Wade’s yelp brings Peter back and he leaps off the ceiling. “What in the shit were you- how long have you- how did you even find me?”

           For the first time Peter’s ever met him, he watches Wade speak flustered with heavy breath.

           Peter takes his mask off, revealing a face of guilt and knitted brows, “I-I’m sorry, Wade. I didn’t mean to scare you…I just wanted to, um…I wanted to see you.”

           “You wanted to see me? _Really?_ Well, baby boy, here I am,” Wade said, gesturing to himself.

           “I actually had a question…why- why didn’t you say goodbye this morning?” Peter is aware of how absolutely childish he sounded, but there’s no going back and that’s honestly a question he wants answered.

           “Oh,” Wade’s voice grows softer, “Well, Spidey, the team and I don’t really get along. And I was only there because they weren’t, but they’re back now so I left. I couldn’t wake you, either, not after a night like that.”

           Peter’s cheeks grow pink, not only out of embarrassment, but also shame for believing Wade would actually want to spend his free time with him.

           “Oh…okay. I-I’ll just leave you then.”

           Peter turns for the window when a large hand stops him on the shoulder.

           “Hey, don’t leave like that. What’s wrong, baby boy? You think you can get rid of me that easily?” Wade caught Peter’s intentions for the out-of-the-blue visit and lightens the mood. “How about this, after school tomorrow I’ll come over and we can play some video games and eat some ice cream.”

           Without turning around, a smirk plays on Peter’s lips, “Do I really have to?”

           “Yep,” Wade said.

           “Well, then I guess I have no choice…thanks, Wade,” Peter said gently.

           “See you around the neighborhood, Mr. Friendly Spider.”

…

          One Year Later – August 27th, 2019

           “Peter you’re gonna be late! Get your butt down here,” Tony called.

           “Ugh, it’s already almost 3rd hour, can’t I just skip it and chill with you guys instead? Wade is supposed to come over, anyways, so maybe he can get here early,” Peter trudges through the hall and plops his backpack onto the counter.

           “Are you implying ditching?” Steve chimed in and crosses his arms.

           Tony walks by Steve’s side, “You are _going_ to school-”

           Peter moans and tries to plead his case, “But I’ll only have like one class by the time-”

           “Um, did you just cut me off while I was speaking?” Tony raised a brow which made Peter gulp. That’s the one thing Tony found really annoying: not being listened to.

           “I’mma just go now,” Peter awkwardly laughs and grabs his keys and backpack. “Bye!”

           There may be days that are darker than the rest, when the sun doesn’t shine as bright, but there are also days when nothing bad can bring him down. It’s been a little over a year and he still gets chills thinking about _that place_. Although he found it hard to cope before, he knows that life has its ups and downs. All he wants now, is to fight for the little guys, like him, like his aunt, and for people who were wronged like Wade.

           He just wants to be the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.


End file.
